


Blue Mountain

by shorelines



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shorelines/pseuds/shorelines
Summary: Unsettled by his two months alone, Akira readjusts back into life in Tokyo. There is much he must carry, but his confidants make each step a little lighter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chinese (中文) Translation available on Lofter (done by the wonderful Ralos!):  
> Chapter 1: http://jedois.lofter.com/post/1e97b2b7_ee992620  
> Chapter 2: http://jedois.lofter.com/post/1e97b2b7_ee9971f3  
> Chapter 3: http://jedois.lofter.com/post/1e97b2b7_ee99e42c  
> Chapter 4: http://jedois.lofter.com/post/1e97b2b7_ee9ad36b  
> Chapter 5: http://jedois.lofter.com/post/1e97b2b7_ee9bfa84

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how to come back.

"Hey, wake up. You can't sleep the day away."

Akira opens his eyes. Cobwebs hang above him from splintering wooden beams and for a moment, he doesn't know where he is.

But then Akira feels the softness of his bed, the blankets tickling the bottom of his chin, and remembers. A black cat leaps into view, and the world reorients itself. _Right_ , Akira thinks, remembering the past two months. _He isn't dead_. Morgana's blue eyes are twinkling. "This is your first full day out of juvenile detention. You have to make the most of it!"

Akira tips his phone up and sees that he's received several texts from his friends while he was sleeping in, but he ignores them all. He saw everyone yesterday, during the welcome back party they threw for him. He'll see them soon enough again.

 

Akira takes the first train he can out of Yongen-Jaya and goes fishing.

"Really?" Morgana had insisted on coming and was perched on the edge of the dock beside him. "Your first day out, and this is what you choose to do?"

"I'll let you have the first fish I catch."

"Ooh, make sure it's a big one!"

The river is remarkably calm that day, a flat surface reflecting back an equally tranquil sky. Akira's fishing hook would dip below the surface, and out would come a wriggling, gasping fish, the next one bigger than the last. Morgana would yowl and claim it as his every time.

Akira knew what Igor would say if he saw him fishing instead of spending time with his confidants. But he needed just a little time to collect himself. Clear his head.

Even by the water, away from the Tokyo skyscrapers, it is louder out here than what he is used to. But the wind is on his face, and his hands are steady. Akira takes a deep breath and focuses on being here on the dock, pulling fish from the river, spending his time as he pleases.

It is far more than what he had just a few days ago.

 

On Akira's walk back to the cafe, an earthquake hits Tokyo.

It's a small one, barely worth mentioning. The people around him hardly react. A thousand earthquakes are felt by Japan every year, after all.

Akira stands still, watching Yongen-Jaya hesitate around him. The birds take flight. A flowerpot falls from its windowsill and breaks on the ground.

Inexplicably, he thinks of the Tokyo Earthquake, the one that happened a hundred years ago. The one so devastating it remains in modern memory, a disaster which lasted under ten minutes. A hundred thousand dead, by fire, tsunami, the quake itself. Tens of thousands missing, buried under mud and tarmac.

This one ends after forty seconds. Yongen-Jaya takes a breath and carries on.

Akira heads home.

 

In the evening at Cafe Leblanc, Sojiro pushes a plate of broiled fish in front of Morgana and a bowl of curry to Akira. "Eat up. You've gotten too skinny in there for your own good." He hasn't finished speaking before Akira is wolfing it down. "Whoa, there's plenty more, kid, slow down. What did they feed you in there?"

Between mouthfuls, Akira pauses and shrugs. "Thank you, Sojiro."

"Don't mention it." He's watching Akira out of the corner of his eye, tracking the movement of his spoon, watching the food disappear from the bowl. Sojiro upends a ladle of curry into it before Akira is done. "I gotta ask, kid. How are you doing?"

What wasn't said hangs between them. How was Akira after what? After seeing the depths of humanity and watching his friends fade from existence? After narrowly leading them all to escape with their lives, except for Morgana? After spending two months in solitary, alone with his thoughts and the cruelty of the Japanese penal system?

"I'm hoping it will get better, Sojiro."

Sojiro blinks, as if he's surprised by Akira's honesty. "Yeah. I… me too, kid."

 

Akira wakes up the next morning, sees the cobwebs on the wooden beams above him, and he doesn't know where he is. He closes his eyes, takes a breath. _The attic, in Leblanc._ When he opens them, Morgana is nowhere to be found.

His phone rings and Akira nearly jumps out of his skin. He squints at the screen — it's Makoto calling. Akira slides his glasses on before answering, and tries to keep the sleep out of his throat. "Hello?"

"I'm coming over to Leblanc. Now." It's the same voice Makoto used on them once, all those months ago, when she revealed she knew that they were the Phantom Thieves. Something in Akira's chest freezes up.

"You're sounding pretty scary there, Queen."

She sighs, and her voice softens. "Sorry. I've been calling for a while."

Akira pulls his phone from his ear, spotting five missed calls from Makoto, three missed calls from Ann and Ryuji, and ten from Yusuke. It's 2:06pm. 

He could hear the chatter of a crowd, a cool female voice announcing something, and the sound of a train pulling in. Makoto clears her throat. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Akira uses that time to brush his teeth, get dressed, become presentable. He turns on all of the lights in the café and puts a pot of coffee on — during the last two months, Futaba had convinced Sojiro to close Leblanc on Sundays and spend them with her instead.

There is a knock on the door at 2:26pm and Akira jumps. Makoto is waving at him through the glass, worry creasing her brow.

"Afternoon," she says. Makoto gives him a scrutinizing stare as she steps inside. Akira runs a hand through his hair, wondering if he still had bedhead. "Oh, is that coffee I smell?"

Akira pours them both a cup, putting in cream and a spoonful of sugar in for Makoto, the way she likes it. He sets it down for her at one of the booths, where she is waiting for him. "So," she says.

"So," he repeats. Makoto doesn't smile.

"We didn't hear from you at all since you got back, and you didn't respond to any of us. We  were — I was worried."

"I just — I just needed some time to myself." The words sounded all wrong coming from his mouth. Neither of them had taken a sip of coffee yet. "It's — I just —"

"Akira." Makoto is looking at him with such intensity, with her red eyes so much like her sister's. For a moment, Akira was back in that cold room, deep underground, where he was interrogated all those months ago. "You've been wearing long-sleeved shirts. But there is a bruise fading on the back of your neck."

Akira closes his eyes briefly. He hadn't even known about that one. "I'm a fool for trying to hide anything from you, Makoto."

"Akira. What happened to you?"

He shrugs and takes a long drink of his coffee. "During the first few weeks, the guards weren't very happy with me, with what I was in for." Makoto visibly blanches and Akira backpedals. "Sae put a stop to it during her first visit when she saw — when she found out. You should have seen her — she was livid. They left me alone after that."

His words don't seem to help. There is a fury in Makoto's eyes that Akira had seen only a few times before — when they faced Kaneshiro, Okumura, Shido. She's gripping her coffee cup with such force that Akira wonders how it hasn't shattered yet. "I can't believe they did this to you— AGAIN — why didn't my sister tell me?!"

Akira smiles a little ruefully. His eyes fall to his coffee, a black circle in a white one. He just woke up, but he feels he could go back to bed again. "Probably because I didn't want you all to know."

"Akira." The tone of her voice makes him look up. Akira hadn't noticed before, but Makoto has faint bags under her eyes, and she had drunk half her coffee. "We missed you every day while you were in there. So please… don't shut us out."

Akira couldn't think of what to say to that. He was so used to protecting them all, and there was so much he didn't want to tell them. But these were his friends, his teammates and confidants.

Hadn't he spent long enough alone?

Makoto wasn't going to let him go without an answer, but she's wearing a small smile now. Something must have changed on his face. "It seems I have a lot of messages to answer," Akira says.

"That's all we ask." Makoto finishes her cup of coffee, setting it down with a _click_. "Have you eaten yet?"

On cue, Akira's stomach growls rather loudly. "Um. There's leftover curry in the fridge."

Makoto shoots him a sharp look and rises from her seat. "Let's go out to lunch." An invitation and a command, all in one. She hasn't changed.

"It'll be my treat," Akira says as he follows her out of the café, locking the door behind him. "You know, since you and everyone got me out of jail."

"Akira, no. You don't owe us anything for that." Makoto had such a serious look on her face that Akira couldn't help but smile.  "What's so funny?"

"I'm _going_ to buy you lunch."

"Akira!"

* * *

That evening, Akira cleans the attic again. It doesn't look like he's made much of a dent in the grime, but it had taken a few days last time.

He'll try again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if Atlus won't let us play the weeks before the game ends then I'm just going to have to develop that part myself
> 
> The earthquake Akira is referring to is the 1923 Great Kanto Earthquake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you run.

The sky is just beginning to lighten above Yongen-Jaya. Akira stands in front of LeBlanc, doing a few stretches in his old sweats. He found them where he left them, folded away in his bottom drawer, right next to his school uniform. The day he turned himself in, Akira hadn't taken stock of his things, didn't memorize the details of the place like some second-rate actor in a bad drama. He didn't think he was coming back.

But here Akira was, waiting for Ryuji. With a few more weeks in Tokyo ahead of him, before his last summer in high school, before his last year. Then the rest of his life stretching out in front of him.

Damn. Where was Ryuji?

"Yo!" Akira turned to see Ryuji jogging up the street. Seemed as if he was already getting a head start. "Sorry I'm late, the train —"

"It's okay," Akira says. Ryuji is frowning at him. Because Akira interrupted? "I — let's go."

Akira starts jogging first, but he knows to pace himself. Ryuji tries to run by his side, but city streets are narrow ones, and he ends up ahead of Akira most of the time.

So Akira has a lot of time to stare at the back of Ryuji's head. He can spot Ryuji's black roots coming in at places, and Akira realizes that’s the first time he's seen even a hint of his hair's natural colour.

Akira runs into Ryuji's back and knocks his forehead against that hair.

"Ow, hey!" Ryuji twists to face him, rubbing the back of his head. "I said that a break would be nice, but don't break open my skull!"

Akira blinks, and is vaguely aware that his whole body is vibrating a little, like he's a tightly wound spring. They're in Inokashira Park, and the sun is rising. The air in his throat feels like ice, and his chest is heaving. Weren't they in Yongen-Jaya just minutes ago?

Ryuji's sighing now. "C'mon, man. This is the part where you say 'your skull's too thick to break' or something like that."

"Seems you're mistaking me for a certain cat." Akira wheezes this out, but Ryuji grins. He pats Akira on the back, and his knees buckle a little. He hasn't felt this exhausted since — since Yaldabaoth?

Ryuji notices, and his smile falls. "Are you sure you wanted to run today, man? You seem… out of it."

Akira really doesn't want to talk about how out of shape he was after two months in solitary, doing nothing but _thinking_. He could barely get enough air to reply as it is, even with his hands on his knees. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with a sleeve. "Ryuji, what do you want to do after high school?"

"I, uh, what?" Ryuji looks at him with concern, but continues after Akira nods at him. "Uh, not sure. My recent goals were to get back at Kamoshida, then you know, be a Phantom Thief. And then after that, get you outta prison."

"You don't have any plans?" The air doesn't seem so thin now. "Anything at all?"

"Well, I planned to spend the morning hanging out with you." Ryuji shrugs. "That's as far as I got right now."

Akira forces himself to straighten up, and his head doesn't spin. He takes a deep breath. His lungs still feel a little constricted, but the sun has come out, warmed the morning air. He can breathe again. "Okay. I… I don't know what I want to do after graduation either."

"We've got a whole year to figure that out!" Ryuji's grinning again, and he folds his hands behind his head. "We've got some time to kill. Why don't we talk a walk around this park instead? We always run right through it."

"I dunno, man," Akira drawls. "Two dudes walking alone in a park? People might look at us funny…."

"What? Sounds like something I'd say — hey!" Ryuji shoves him lightly on the shoulder, and Akira grins. "Is this the part where I say what you always say? 'Don't make it weird'?"

"You're getting it." Akira starts walking, and Ryuji follows. "Where are we going then?"

Ryuji shrugs and catches up to him, so that they're side by side. "It's a big place. Let's figure it out as we go along."

 

Yusuke asks Akira to visit him during his lunch period at school, so Akira invites him to a donburi place nearby. It was an unspoken rule of the Phantom Thieves to buy that boy some food whenever possible, and Akira feels that he's missed out on his part the last two months.

When their bowls arrive, Yusuke practically inhales his, leaving not a single grain of rice within it. Akira suggests that he get another, but Yusuke insists that he's satisfied, and pulls out his sketchbook.

"My teacher says that my abstract art is marvelous, but I need to work on my still lifes." Yusuke sighs dramatically, showing Akira what appears to be an immaculate depiction of a bowl of fruit. "After so long in the Metaverse, I find it difficult to find the real world very inspiring."

"I find I agree," Akira says. He doesn't feel very hungry, and he wonders if he could get Yusuke to eat his portion. But Yusuke is flipping to a blank page now, and his pencil begins moving wildly across the page.

 "Even so! I simply cannot pass up this afternoon — this place you've chosen for us has such a lovely patio."

The soft sound of Yusuke's pencil is calming, and Akira takes in the scene around at them. They're seated outside of a café, one bigger than Leblanc, and the skies are a clear, stunning blue. Most of the people in the street are wearing Yusuke's white uniform, and a few students his age cast glances their way. There was any number of things for Yusuke to draw here — the cherry blossom tree just beginning to bloom or the girl on the bench, her head tipped down into a book. The sparrow that had landed on the table next to them, hopping about and pecking at leftover bread crumbs, a shred of green spinach. It is hobbling a little — it's leg seems to be injured.

If this was the Metaverse, Akira could heal it. If this was the Metaverse, this whole scene would look a lot different.

For better or for worse?

"—Akira. Akira?"

"Hm?" Akira refocuses, and saw that Yusuke is fixing him with a rather intense stare. The sparrow takes flight and disappears. "Oh… sorry."

"Remember what I said to you, before you were taken from us?" Yusuke's voice has gone quiet, and Akira has to lean in a little. "I wanted to paint your smile. But I find that I am struggling to do so now, especially since my model appears to have gone."

"I'm right here, Yusuke," Akira says. But he's still thinking of the sparrow, of the wide blue sky above.

"Hm." Yusuke flips his sketchbook around and slides it to him. Akira looks down to see his own face in shades of grey. He isn't wearing his glasses in the sketch, and his eyes are faraway. His hair is almost down to his shoulders, a wild dark halo around his head. Akira realizes that he's been mirroring the sketch's troubled frown.

"We still think of you as our leader, you know," Yusuke is saying. "With or without the Metaverse. You saved us."

Akira looks up at him. "You give me too much credit."

Yusuke does not look away. "Maybe it is time for you to save yourself."

 

After Akira walks Ann home from her latest modelling shoot, he asks her to cut his hair.

It's on impulse. He doesn't know why he said it, as they were outside her apartment door. He doesn't even know if she's ever cut hair before, or if she imagined spending her afternoon differently.

Akira turns to leave then, but Ann catches his arm and lets him inside.

She's a professional about it. She coaxes him into rinsing his hair in her bathroom sink while she sets everything up.

"My mom works as a stylist in her film crew," she explains when she sits him down in front of her. Akira sits stiffly, but it isn't because he doubts her ability. He can barely bring himself to care what he would look like after. "So I won't butcher you, at least."

"I trust you," he says, and Akira imagines her smile. His hair is damp against his neck. He hears the scraping sound of scissors opening and she runs her hands through his hair. Akira imagines her standing behind him, scissors poised in the air, deciding on where to start. She starts cutting, the snip of her scissors steady.

As he looks around, Akira realizes he's never been in her place before. The Thieves have all seen glimpses of Ann's room in their late night video calls of course, but her organized chaos doesn't seem to exist in the rest of the apartment. It's pristine, with tastefully matched furniture and abstract art on the walls that go with a throw rug on the carpet. There aren't any socks that have been kicked into the corner, no notes on the kitchen table, and no photos of the family.

It is a room that you would see in an interior design magazine.

"Ann, where are your parents?"

"Well my mom's in Vancouver right now, and my dad in London." Ann says this cheerfully, as she says everything. "They're working on different movies right now."

"Are they gone often?"

Her hands pause for a moment. "More than I'd like." Her voice has gone a bit softer, and she brushes something off his shoulder. Black strands fall to the hardwood beside him. "Akira. Don't worry about me."

He closes his eyes. "I always worry about all of you."

"We know," Ann says, and he feels the soft brush of her scissors against the nape of his neck again as she starts cutting again. "Thank you for that."

"How can you live here, alone?"

"My parents have always been very busy, and we've always moved around. But for the past few years, I had Shiho." He can hear the smile in her voice. "And in the past year, well, I had all of you. I still have you."

The days are going by.

"The point is, I'm alright." There is a soft _snick_ — the sound of scissors closing. "I'm going to dry you off now, okay?"

Akira wills himself not to flinch as Ann turns the blow-dryer on, and he opens his eyes. The scene before him hasn't changed much — still the same, unlived in apartment, still a space too big for one girl. But the shadows in the room have gotten longer and the sky is no longer cerulean but a dusky blue, streaked with orange. It's getting late.

The room goes deafeningly silent with a _click_. "And we're done! Your hair really grew out in there, didn't it?" Ann sticks a mirror in front of him and Akira's suddenly looking back at his own reflection. She's smiling wide, and her own hair is loose from her trademark pigtails, because that was what her shoot called for. "What do you think?"

His hair slightly shorter than what Akira's used to. He finds that most hairdressers do this and mangle it in the process, but Ann knows him. The black around his head was still there — just less of it.

"Thank you, Ann."

She grins at him and fluffs his hair a little. It isn't a model's smile, but the smile of Ann, his dear friend. Akira looks away as a pang thunders through his chest. He would miss this.

"Any time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't make it weird Ryuji. Hang out at the amusement park with your best friend. 
> 
> This story is also an exercise in subtlety for me, so let me know what you think about it! Any and all feedback is welcome :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life goes on

Before Akira left, before Yaldabaoth and the end of the world, the last one-on-one conversation he had with Haru was about radishes.

It had just been another day. She told him all about their heartiness, their nutritional value, how she was going to grow great bouquets of them — red and purple and white. And when Akira asked her how she was going to do this in the dead of winter with the school about to be closed for break, Haru smiled.

“I will grow them at home, indoors of course. I’ve got the space all to myself now, with no one to stop me. A few grow lights go a long way.”

Akira had floundered on whether he should comment on that loneliness and anger nestled in between her plans for plants, but ended up staying silent. It might have been awkward with anyone else, but with Haru’s easy smile, it was as easy as breathing.

If he were being honest, Akira forgot about this conversation entirely when he was in prison. He is only reminded of it now, on his way to meet Haru afterschool on the roof.

Akira takes the route he always had, back when the world thought he was dead. He doesn’t need to hide now, not really, but there are questions he doesn't want to hear from people he doesn't want to see, and answers he doesn't want to give. He's only here for Haru.

She's standing on the roof in her red jumpsuit, just as she had before the world collapsed around them. For a brief, golden moment, Akira thinks it feels like autumn again. Then the wind changes, a chill passes through him, and he is standing on the roof in early spring.

"Akira! Come look!"

He shuffles his way to Haru, who excitedly catches him by the arm in her haste. She kneels down by one of her planters, pulling him with her, and waves a hand at all the green. "I planted the radishes while you were gone. They're all grown now, and they're ready for the picking."

"That was fast," Akira said. The rows and rows of leaves blooming out of the dirt were a bright, vivid green, lush and curling and bountiful. "I didn't leave that long ago."

"I'm going to use them in a dish for my café." Haru is inspecting the plants gently, her fingers barely brushing over leaves. "I'm thinking roasted radishes with spinach. And all the greens will be used in a creamy soup, so nothing will be wasted."

"How far along are you with the café? You were still just thinking about it in the fall."

"I've leased out a place and I'm speaking with the renovators this afternoon." Haru smiles brightly at him. "I know I'm moving fast, but I want it open by this summer."

Akira is astounded. "Is there anything I can help with? Go shopping for cutlery, design a menu, anything? I know that I promised to before I left —"

"Oh, there's still much to do, but you only have a few weeks left in Tokyo!" Haru leans back and laughs. "You should relax."

"Sorry, I just —" Akira can't bring himself to meet her eyes. "A lot has happened while I was gone."

"I'll tell you all about it." Haru shakes the dirt from her hands and takes his elbow gently, bringing them both up to standing. "And Akira?"

"Hm?"

A glint of steel flashes in Haru's eyes and she looks at him sternly. “You didn’t leave. You were taken from us.”

"Oh — I, um —"

Her expression softens, and Haru hands him some gardening gloves. "Will you help me harvest them?"

Akira blinks and puts them on absent-mindedly. "Of course."

Haru shows him how to pull the radishes from the earth. She pulls from the base of the greens, just above the crown, and it comes out surprisingly easy. Haru decides that she should start on the right and he on the left, and before long, both have a growing pile of radishes, fresh from the dirt. "I was thinking that the café has to have a rotating menu, if I'm going to grow my own vegetables like this. But I'm a gardener, not a chef."

"I have faith in you," Akira says. He pulls another radish from the earth, a deep purple-red one.

"Thank you." He can hear the smile in Haru's voice. "The Boss is helping me so much with how to run my café, and Makoto is wonderful with recipes. I've commissioned Yusuke to paint a few things for me to hang on the walls."

Akira is silent then, focusing on grasping the radishes by the base of the stem and pulling, brushing the dirt away and placing them gently with the others. He does this until his elbow knocks against something, and looks to see Haru at his right.

"What I'm saying is," she begins, pulling a radish out of the last planter, "I couldn't have done it without any of you. Without your knowledge and more importantly, your friendship, I wouldn't be here right now, about to open my own café."

She pulls one, then another, out of the dirt. But Haru leaves the last one for him. "And without your sacrifice, none of us would be free right now."

Akira swallows, unable to meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry you spent so much time in there. But you're back now."

"I'm back now."

"And I can tell you about everything that you missed." Haru leans back, but she doesn't look at him. She waits, patiently, her gloved hands on her knees, palms upward.

Akira reaches out and pulls the last radish from the dirt. Its red and white skin is rubbery but firm under his touch. "I think... that's alright. The time has passed."

Haru smiles and gathers up a bundle of radishes, the bouquet of green spilling out from her arms. "Let's get started on these then."

 

Later, Akira meets Mishima at the diner on Central Street, and for a moment, he looks like he did a year ago — bags under his eyes and a tired expression on his face. He smiles when he waves Akira over, but a deep sense of despair settles in his stomach when he sees the band aid on Mishima's cheek. "Mishima, what happened to you?"

"What?" Mishima looks up at him distractedly when Akira sits down, clutching his phone. His eyes seem far away. "Are you talking about my face?"

"Yes, I'm talking about your face!" Akira's hands gather into fists on his knees under the table. He thought they sorted all this out before he was imprisoned. Who else is after Yuuki Mishima? "Is someone giving you trouble?"

"What? No!" Mishima's eyes go wide. "I, um...."

Akira stares at him until he sighs. Mishima fidgets with a napkin. "I... I cutmyselfshaving."

"You what?"

"I cut myself shaving, alright?!" Mishima glances away in embarrassment, the dark circles under his eyes making him look harried. "Anyways, my struggles with puberty isn't what I wanted to talk to you about." He pulls out his phone and swipes once, twice. Mishima plugs a pair of earbuds into it and offers it all to Akira.

"What's this?"

"What I've been working on." Mishima grins. "I... please, just see it for yourself.

Raising an eyebrow, Akira puts the earbuds in. Mishima bounces in his seat, something between giddy excitement and nauseating anxiety crossing his face. He taps once more on his phone and hands it to Akira. A video begins, Mishima's voice playing directly into his head.

"Shujin Academy, 20XX." It's an opening shot at their school. The trees are near bare, and the leaves on the ground are covered in frost. "This is where the first case of the stolen hearts happened. Its students were the first of the thousands of lives that would be changed all over the world. This is the place where the Phantom Thieves were born," Mishima narrates, and the video ends.

Before Akira can say anything, Mishima has reached over and swiped at his phone, playing the next video.

It opens in one of Shujin's classrooms. Judging from the field outside, it's on the ground floor, but Akira can't quite remember which room it is. There is a girl Akira has never seen before, facing the camera. She wears their uniform. "Who were the Phantom Thieves? A bunch of reckless punks, I think. But brave ones."

Akira chokes out a laugh and glances up at Mishima. He's grinning back, and nods at the phone. The video plays on.

It has cut to a student younger than them. A round faced boy, with thick glasses and an orange stain on their uniform's shirt collar. "The Phantom Thieves? They're my heroes!"

"And why do you say that?" Mishima asks, somewhere off-screen.

"My sister worked at Okumura Foods," the boy says. His face scrunches up at the memory. "She would always come home exhausted, and she had to go to the hospital once for a burn. They treated her like a slave, I swear!"

Then the video cuts, and Kawakami is sitting there, her face serious. They were in her office, tidier than Akira had ever seen it, a large, new calendar hanging behind the computer. The dark circles under her eyes have disappeared and Kawakami is wearing a new dress shirt. "They stood up when the school hadn't, with the Kamoshida case." Her eyes flick to the camera, and Akira blinks back. "The Phantom Thieves inspired me to do better by my students. I want to make sure we never turn a blind eye to abuse again."

The video cuts away. Another student. "The Phantom Thieves made me believe in justice."

"The Phantom Thieves helped my family."

"The Phantom Thieves saved me."

A longer cut now. Akira catches a brief flash of his own reflection in the darkened screen and reminds himself to breathe.   

"I miss them." A voice in the darkness before the video comes back. This one is different. There is a white opaque screen in front of the camera, but Akira can make out the silhouette of a girl with a ponytail. Her voice is soft, familiar. "But they have shown me, shown all of us, that we can fight back and rebuild. There is... so much to live for. I see that now."

The video ends there. Akira doesn't move until the phone screen goes black and he can see his reflection again. There are wet tracks running down his face.

"When she heard I was doing this documentary, she went through Shujin's telephone directory to contact me." Akira looks up, and sees that Mishima has tears in his eyes too. "She's doing better, Akira. They all are."

Akira nods, not trusting himself to speak. He takes the earbuds out and hands the phone back to Mishima, who is looking at him expectantly. "So? What did you think about it?"

Akira huffs out a weak laugh. "Well. It's dramatic, and a little cheesy. But that's just your style, isn't it?" He takes a deep breath, wipes the tears from his eyes. He breathes. "Your lack of sleep was worth it."

Mishima absolutely beams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Has it really been two months already? 
> 
> The last statement at the end of the documentary sample was made by Shiho.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some time alone

He's sitting outside of Cafe Leblanc, a steaming cup of coffee he brewed that morning in front of him. It's a warm spring afternoon in Yongen-Jaya, the quiet streets strangely still. It's 1:45pm on a weekday, with everyone is locked away in school or at work except for Akira Kurusu, who is putting his hand out from under the shade, catching sunlight in his palm.

He's been out of prison for a while now, and seen all of his friends since then, here and there. They all looked the same. Akira isn't sure why he thought they would be different. He takes a sip of his coffee — Blue Mountain blend.

Sometimes Akira blinks, and a day goes by. With another blink, a few more. Whole seasons pass him by, snow falling and melting between sunrays, cherry blossom petals gathering and disintegrating on the street in front of Cafe Leblanc. He closes his eyes, and when he looks again, his friends are all standing over him. He knows its them, but he can't make out their faces. They're not wearing their school uniforms but pressed business suits, all with matching indigo ties.

Akira blinks and he's sitting on the cool tiled floor of his narrow cell in juvenile detention. He looks up, tries to catch a glimpse through the thin window set in the grey metal door at anyone, anything. He keeps his eyes open for as long as he can, but there is nothing.

Akira blinks, and he's looking out to a familiar countryside lit by the early morning light. He's in his old room — not the attic at Leblanc, but the room he grew up in. He can hear his mother humming below and the clattering of plates being set on the table by his father, and he knows that he has school tomorrow. Akira is seated by the open window, the gauzy white curtains billowing out. Out there, he can see the low, tiled roofs of houses covering the mountain, sees the lush green trees rolling on. He can't see a single glittering glass skyscraper, but there is the flat expanse of shining blue ocean to the east, stretching out and out and out.

His mother calls his name, and frigid ocean air floods in. The stormy blue sky expands and pulls him out of his room by his arms, and he's falling, hurtling into the roiling grey sea. The air seizes out of his lungs — he's about to hit the water —

Akira opens his eyes to darkness. It's a blurry, soft thing before him, but his glasses are on his bedside table. Something warm is curled up by his stomach, and Morgana quietly yawns in his sleep.

Akira knows he's awake now. He knows he still has some time left in Tokyo to spend with his friends, in any way he chooses, before he has to go back to that sleepy town by the sea. But he keeps his eyes open anyway, watching Morgana breathe in the darkness — just a slight, rhythmic shift in shadow, over and over. Akira does this for as for as long as he can, matching his breathing to Morgana's.

Akira blinks, and the world doesn't change.

 

Goro Akechi is memorialized in Yanaka Cemetery at his family's plot. Of course, there wasn't a body to cremate. But when Akira goes, there is a plaque there with Akechi's name on it and a small greyscale picture. It's the one that all the newspapers used, a generic headshot from one of Akechi's photoshoots. Akechi is smiling, but in the way that the cameras loved, and he seemed just a second shy of winking. Akira had seen that smile splashed across the television too often, seen perfect copies of it in photos with fans, saw it in person the first time they met. It seems wholly inappropriate to be his grave marker.

Akira has to kneel to avoid craning down at it. Some flowers are stuck in the holder above Akechi's marker; one bunch is made of plastic, still going strong, but the rest are brown and shrivelled, long dead. Akira came empty handed, and is surprised to see the memorial of an idol already in such a state. When Akira had turned himself in, the media was in a frenzy, splitting airtime between the Phantom Thieves of Hearts and the mysterious disappearance of Goro Akechi. When Akira checked online for the location of Akechi's gravesite before visiting today, he saw that some of his most dedicated fans had taken it upon themselves to crack the case of what exactly happened to him. Many are still trying to get new information, spouting all kinds of ridiculous theories — from being eerily close to the truth to claiming that Akechi was still alive. But it seems to Akira that most of the country has already moved on from their Detective Prince.

Akira doesn't truly know why he was here now, in front of his grave. He has the day to himself, and, well, this was the last Phantom Thief he hadn't seen yet. Akira doesn't like to leave work unfinished.

Even after all his time in prison, Akira still hasn't come to a solid conclusion on what to think about Goro Akechi, equal parts detective, rival, murderer, victim. Member of the Phantom Thieves. The boy who wanted what Akira had.

He always felt he understood Akechi best when it was just the two of them. The Thieves could be alarmingly loud, and to best see beneath someone's mask, you need quiet. Without the Thieves behind Akira and the cameras behind Akechi, his vision would clear, and the lonely boy behind the Detective Prince would come into focus.

"Was this how you felt?" Akira asks softly. The dew of the grass was chilling the knees of his pants. "Did you think about how every time you got closer to catching us, the sooner you would lose us?"

There was no answer. Akira doesn't know why he had been expected one.

"You didn't deserve what you got," Akira finally says, his voice carrying in the quiet cemetery. "But I — we  — didn't have the chance to say thank you, until now."

Akira isn't here to forgive Goro Akechi. But now, during his last few days in this city, he has come to some sort of understanding about him.

Akira stands. "I wish we all had met sooner."

The leader of the Phantom Thieves walks away, into the cold morning air.

 

In the evening, Akira is sitting where he always does in this church when waiting for Hifumi to arrive.

It hasn't changed one bit in the weeks that he was gone. The pews have the same clear varnish, covered with years of nicks and little globs of melted candle wax. There is the young woman who is always here at this time, wearing the same blue scarf, sitting in the same place. The old priest walks across the pulpit, his shoes shuffling across the marble, lighting the same white candles one by one. The place is still a little stuffy, but it glows with warmth, a refuge from the early spring night.

Akira takes a moment to breathe. He never truly stopped to consider this quiet place, despite all the times he has been here. It feels like centuries folded neatly into a box, all of time holding its breath for prayers from the elderly, for people taking shelter from the rain, for two kids to finish their game of shogi. This is a strange church, to allow that. But a wonderful one.

Akira feels grateful for the quiet, for being able to walk into this space freely. He's thankful for all of his friends, soon to be so far away. And to no one in particular, he asks for help getting used to this again.

He prays for the dead, for those who have suffered, for his friends and family. Then the door to the church creaks open, and the familiar sound of Hifumi's shoes on marble shake him out of his reverie.

 Akira sighs and stands up to greet her. Sojiro must be rubbing off on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about Futaba, her bit just hasn't come up yet. 
> 
> Also there is no way Akechi is really dead Atlus loves spinoffs too much for that to happen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thick as Thieves

When he was locked up, Akira only visited the Velvet Room once. Lavenza and Igor summoned him on his first night, and presented him with The World. They told him that he no longer walked alone, that he had found fulfillment, and it was to become the foundation of his future with his friends, his family.

He replayed their words in his head every day in that prison cell. That was the last conversation he had with one of his confidants, the last connection to the second life he had lived, at least until Sae began visiting. But during his last few dwindling days in Tokyo, talking with his friends and wandering alone with a terrible weight in his chest, Akira is sure that none of it had taken root in his heart.

Now, as that familiar indigo haze curls around the edges of his dreams, Akira wonders if they are coming to take it back.

He opens his eyes and sees blue brick above him, feels the stone under his back. Akira's in his prison cell, but as he gets up he doesn't feel the heavy chains around his limbs and sees the rusted purple gate open for him — just as it had been months ago.

Lavenza is standing beyond it by Igor's desk, and as Akira approaches he sees the stern look on her face, reminding him of Caroline more than Justine. "Your heart is closing again, Akira," she says. She's gripping her clipboard tightly, worry creasing her brow. "In a new way, this time. It's... strange."

"Strange, but not unexpected." Igor has his eyes closed, his hands folded under his long nose. Akira isn't sure what to expect still, with this new Igor, the real one. "He's spent much time in a physical prison after all."

Lavenza sighs, and turns to Akira. "My master knows that that is not the true problem, not anymore." She taps her clipboard lightly with a pen, her piercing yellow eyes softening. "I do not think we need to tell you what it is you are constrained by."

Akira gives her a wry smile. "I think about it enough on my own."

"Then you know what you need to do," Igor says. He unfolds his spidery hands from under his nose, leaning forwards a little. "You are a most interesting guest. But this is your last warning."

"Good luck, Akira," Lavenza says, her face inscrutable, but not unkind.

Akira wakes up.

 

"There, it's all set!" Futaba turns the projector slightly, and the blue rectangle lighting up the pinned up bedsheet moves to center. She rigged this up in under five minutes, her hands flying and plugging in the right wires into the right outlets of the right boxes. "It's easy-peasy stuff," she had said, and he let her have her fun. "You're not going to regret this, Akira! The movie I've picked out is one for the ages."

"I can't wait to see it." Akira is sitting on the floor of the attic, now covered haphazardly in mismatched blankets and pillows, pilfered from his bed and borrowed from the Sakura household. But for that, the walls of his room are strangely bare, the shelves empty of the colourful souvenirs he collected over the year. They are all packed away now, folded between articles of clothing and tucked carefully inside of his suitcase.

"Come on! Sound more excited," Futaba bounds over to him, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet in one swift motion. Akira blinks in surprise. "This is my first movie night with friends, and you're not gonna ruin it with your teenage mood swings!"

Akira smiles until he hears a knock on the café door. Futaba spins away from him, her orange hair fanning out behind her. "Someone's here early! Let the party start!" She leaps down the stairs and Akira winces, always expecting her to break her ankles when she does that. He closes his eyes briefly, takes a breath. Another.  

Akira descends the staircase, managing to assemble a placid expression on his face for whoever is at the door. He sees the old man from the second-hand shop instead, handing Futaba a package. Akira lets out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

After thanking the man, Futaba shuts the door, the copper bell ringing gently. "I was so excited about tonight I forgot to pick up what I bought from Mr. Yuki. He was nice enough to come by."

"I hadn't known his name."

Futaba shrugs, a slim box in her hands. "He comes by the café sometimes, along with Miss Mura from the supermarket."

"I'm glad you're making friends with the people around here. It's a nice neighbourhood."

"Better late than never, right?" Futaba looks up at him suddenly, her eyes shining as she holds out the box to him. "I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but it would be weird now that you've already seen it."

Akira hesitates. "I don't —"

"This is for all the times you took me to Akihabara, so you can't turn it down!" Futaba shoves it into his hands and nods at the box. "Open it!"

Akira flips the box over and pulls at the tape. He methodically unfolds the brown paper to reveal the slightly worn box of a PlayStation Portable. "Futaba —"

"It's old and second-hand, so it wasn't expensive," she retorts, smirking slightly. "There's a game in there too. I — I want you to play it. It's about some students who fight monsters in their spare time and end up saving the world. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah," Akira flips the box in his hands again. He tries to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"The ending kinda sucks, but everything else about it is great. It's pretty easy to pick up since this is an improved version of the game, so you shouldn't have too much trouble —"

"Futaba." She looks up at him, her eyes impossibly large behind those huge glasses of hers. Futaba still looks exactly as she had when Akira was imprisoned — the same worn clothes and bleach-dyed hair — but he swears she's taller than before. "Thank you. Really."

Futaba smiles at him, radiant. "Let me know what parts you're at when you get to them! I have other games to recommend too, after you're done that one."  

"I'll start when I get back to my parents' place," Akira says. A smile tugs at his mouth. "I'll tell you all about it."

"I know I've told you this before, but I'm so happy you're back," Futaba crosses her arms, frowning a little. "It was almost like you went away to college for a semester, but instead it was… prison…."

Akira grins. Everyone was still stepping on eggshells around his time in prison but for Futaba. "You'll be starting school soon, right? Tell me all about that, when I'm away. Tell me about… all of them."

Futaba scoffs and waves her phone at him. "Talk to them yourself. We're not kicking you out of the group chat or anything."

Akira hums. It won't be the same, but it is what he had. "I know."

They're quiet for a moment. Futaba looks away. "Me and Dad are going to miss you," she finally says. "But you're family. So come visit during the holidays, okay?"

"I'll come back to see all of you."

"All of us," Futaba nods.

They fall silent again, and in this stillness, Akira feels as if he could live in this moment forever — standing in a café he knew every corner of with his sister in a city he fell in love with, waiting for their friends to arrive. Outside, he sees people going home after a long day of work. He can hear the singing of birds, the laughter of children as they run through the streets of Yongen-Jaya. The last of the cherry blossom petals are rolling over the pavement, rivers of pink turning into streams. Akira lets out a breath and time moves again, but he holds onto that moment before, just as he holds on to everything. "Can I ask what movie you did end up picking to mentally prepare myself?"

Futaba smiles, wide and devious. "It's a romantic drama: _21 Days in Tokyo_. Makoto and Ryuji are gonna hate it. And it's too cheesy for even Ann, but I wanna watch Yusuke tear up over it. I think you and I are going have the most fun though."

Akira laughs. "It's perfect."

There's a knock at the door. Akira's still smiling when their friends walk in, and it is like the café lights up, all at once.

 

As the movie ends, they're all laying in the attic, swathed in blankets. Yusuke is curled up in the corner, sniffling over a bowl of popcorn, while Ann rolls her eyes at the weepy reunion of the lovers. Ryuji groans in despair over the lingering shots of tearful gazes, pulling his pyjama shirt over his face and kicking at the blankets entangling his legs. Morgana leaps to avoid the crossfire, and Haru just pets his head as he yowls in protest. Makoto shoots a glare at Futaba, but breaks into a grin when she sees her laughing with Akira.

As the couple walks off hand-in-hand, Ryuji throws a green and yellow patterned pillow at them. It bounces harmlessly off the image, but sends ripples through the white screen. "That was the dumbest movie I've ever seen! Why didn't they just talk to each other instead of going through all that bullshit?!"

"It was for the _art_ of it all, Ryuji," says Yusuke wistfully. Despite the fact that he was crying through the last half hour, his face was free from any blotchy redness. He mops his eyes elegantly with another tissue. "We wouldn't have gotten the wonderful drama of the airport scene if they just _talked_."

"Was there an airport scene?" Haru says in her soft voice. Her hair seems more ruffled than usual. "I dozed off at some point."

"How insulting!" cries Futaba at Akira's left. "This movie is a masterpiece of comedy."

"It did make me want to see the ocean again," Ann says, laying her head on a pillow. The credits are rolling, complete with stills from the most dramatic parts of the movie. "Remember that day at the beach? And Hawaii?"

"Akira's drive back home passes the sea," Morgana chirps up. "You all could just follow him secretly on the highway."

"I'm pretty sure I'd spot a car with six screaming passengers in it," says Akira, rolling his eyes.

"It doesn't have to be a secret," Makoto says slowly. She's starting to get that look on her face, the look that Akira had seen countless times in Palace saferooms during their strategy breaks. "What if we just… went with you?"

Ryuji laughs. "Run away together? I'm all for it, Queen."

Makoto blushes, but Haru claps her hands. "I like it. Even if it was just for a few days, we could visit Akira's hometown!"

"Huh. I've only ever lived in big cities, so I'd like a tour, Akira!" Ann's eyes are shining with excitement as she turns to Akira, and suddenly, they're all looking at him.

"Uh, there's really not much to see there —" Akira's protesting, but he's already thinking of the bickering and laughter ahead of them if they did it. He smiles at the thought, and Futaba pumps a fist in the air.

"I think that's a yes! How are we doing this?"

"We could take the van I use for my café," Haru offers. "Makoto can drive."

Morgana looks up at her incredulously, tail whipping behind him. "Of course she will! It's not like we'd make Yusuke or Ryuji do it!"

Ryuji's mouth gapes wordlessly, while Yusuke tilts his chin up and replies, "I could learn to drive if I so desired to, unlike a certain thumbless _cat_."

"You take that back!" screeches Morgana, and Haru seizes him around the middle before he can claw Yusuke to death.

"Well, I'd say that's a plan," Makoto says to Akira. "Are you up for it?"

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice," Akira replies. He tries to look glum to make her laugh, but he can't bring himself to. It's a ridiculous plan. But they haven't had something like this in such a long time. "Looks like I can't get rid of you guys, even if I tried."

"You got that right!" Futaba shouts. She pulls her laptop towards her, her definitely illegal folder of movies open. "Now let's watch _The Fast and the Furious_ to prepare for our road trip!"

A mix of laughter and groaning rises around them, and Akira can't stop smiling.

 

On his last walk around town, Akira moves purposefully towards the ghostly indigo door of the Velvet Room on Central Street. It crystallizes as he comes closer, and the small form of Lavenza gradually comes into focus. She meets his eyes, expressionless, waiting for him with her clipboard in hand. When Akira crosses the street, weaving through the crowd, Lavenza nods at him and smiles.

She places a small silver key into his palm. They talk, and the people in this city move past on the main street, none noticing the kid with a cat in his bag in the alley. The air is warmer now, swirling in eddies around them, picking up candy wrappers, bb gun pellets, cherry blossom petals. They talk until it is time for him to go.

As Akira steps out onto the sidewalk, he can't help but look back. Adults in suits and kids in school uniforms brush by him absently, laughing and talking amongst themselves. In the alley, there are some crumpled newspapers and peeling posters, but Lavenza and the spectral door are gone. He commits this sight to memory too.  

The key is solid in his hand as Akira makes his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game Futaba gave Akira is Persona 3 Portable (my favourite Persona game. Personally, I'm fine with the ending due to the themes of the game, but I doubt Futaba would be).
> 
> Waiting on those P5 spinoffs, Atlus.


End file.
